


Skipping The Ball

by xenadragon_xoxo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Jealousy, Sex Toys, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 15:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14523615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenadragon_xoxo/pseuds/xenadragon_xoxo
Summary: After seeing her crush dancing with someone else, Hermione ditches the Eighth Year End-of-Term Ball for a much more pleasurable recreational activity.





	Skipping The Ball

**Author's Note:**

> For hp_may_madness Day 3 - Prompts: Lady in Red / Electric, Kink: Sex toys

Parties and dances had never been much of Hermione’s thing. That’s likely why, when the celebratory Eighth Year End-of-Term Ball was in full swing, she ducked out and made her way back to her dorm room. It was definitely not because she’d seen her crush dancing in the arms of a man. Definitely not.  
  
Hermione wished that Harry, Ron, and Neville had decided to return for Eighth Year with her, but they’d skipped it and gone straight for Auror training. They’d said she could easily do the same ( _“I mean, you’re brilliant, Hermione!”, said Ron_ ) but she couldn’t imagine stepping foot into any magical job without completing her education and earning Outstandings in all her N.E.W.T.s.  
  
She sighed as she arrived back at the shared Eighth Year Common Room entrance. They would be completely empty now, and she needed a pick-me-up after the stress of the crowded dance full of far too many people who didn’t know how to waltz without stepping on each other’s toes.  
  
The portrait of Brian Gagwilde III that guarded the way into the rooms scrutinized her as she approached.  
  
“Gomas barbadensis,” Hermione said.  
  
“The party not to your liking, m’lady?” Brian Gagwilde III asked, tipping his pointy hat to her.  
  
“Not particularly,” Hermione replied. “Gomas barbadensis.”  
  
“Why not?” he pestered. “Merlin forbid a witch like you was left un-escorted! Or… perhaps… did your escort leave you behind?”  
  
Hermione flushed red. She didn’t have a date - she’d turned down every single person who’d asked her - but she _had_ been staring at someone all night long. Not that it mattered. That person would never feel the same. “No,” she said sternly. “Gomas barbadensis.”  
  
But the portrait still wasn’t swinging back to let her in. “Are you certain? For, if I may say so, m’lady, you seem to have something heavy weighing on your mind -”  
  
Hermione glared at Brian Gagwilde III. “ _Gomas. Barbadensis_ ,” she snapped.  
  
The portrait finally swept his hat off his head as he dipped into a low bow. “As you wish, m’lady.”  
  
At long last, having accepted the password, the painting swung forward. Hermione pushed open the door behind it and she was finally in her Common Room. As she anticipated, it was completely empty. Everyone would be at the party for a few more hours, so she had plenty of alone time to calm her frazzled nerves.  
  
Making her way into her own dorm room, Hermione whipped out her wand from under her dress robes and cast a very simple ward on the door so that it would give her some time to make herself presentable before someone came in. Compared to all the complex, almost unbreakable wards and barriers she’d used when on the hunt for Horcruxes, this was nothing, but she was too tired to bother with a better one and she was sure no one would notice it in time to disarm it before it alerted her of their presence.  
  
Pulling back the curtains of her four-poster bed, Hermione collapsed onto the soft sheets. She waved her wand in the direction of her bedside drawer, protected by a complicated series of locks, and muttered the incantations needed to crack them. It clicked open, and she reached inside to pull out her vibrator. It was the one Muggle item she’d brought with her, along with some spare batteries, and it was easy enough to draw the curtains around her bed at night and cast a Silencing charm whenever she needed a means for release.  
  
Today, she didn’t bother with those precautions. She clicked the vibrator on, and it hummed to life in a satisfyingly familiar way. Hurriedly disposing of her undergarments, she hiked up her dress robes so they were around her waist, smiling contentedly as she lowered the vibrator between her legs. She pressed the toy against herself, and the sensation send a thrill of pleasure running up her spine. She moaned quietly, eyes sliding shut, reaching down to turn the dial up on the sex toy. A gasp escaped her lips as it sped up in its thrumming, and her hips began to grind forward into the head, her legs tensing up as she keened.  
  
Then, she opened her eyes and was greeted by the sight of Pansy Parkinson standing at the door of their dorm room.  
  
Hermione shrieked, dropping the toy to lunge forward and grab at her blanket and covers, fumbling as she awkwardly pulled them over her body.  
  
“How long have you been standing there?” she exclaimed, voice more high-pitched than she intended it to be.  
  
Pansy shrugged, looking nonchalant, but when she spoke, it came out in a stammer. Hermione had never heard her sound so nervous before. “A few minutes,” she said.  
  
“But I warded the door!” Hermione cried, bringing the covers up even higher to make doubly sure that Pansy couldn’t see anything.  
  
“You used a really basic ward,” Pansy replied. “I felt it in the air. It’s the same one all of us used in the Dungeons.” She sneered a little, but it seemed shaky. “Getting a little rusty, Granger?  
  
Ugh. Slytherins. What group of people would even use wards so regularly that everyone would recognize them from how the air felt? Hermione groaned and buried her face in her pillow. Not only was she extremely humiliated at getting caught in such a compromising position by one of the most devious students at Hogwarts, but she was also being teased by the one person she’d wanted to dance with most this evening. “Go away, Parkinson,” she said.  
  
“Aw, come on, Granger,” Pansy giggled. Whatever had been making her stutter before, she seemed to have gotten over it now. “You’ve always been such a killjoy.”  
  
Hermione sighed and looked back at her. Pany was wearing stunning red dress robes that looked shockingly scarlet even in the dimness of the room. They hugged her frame perfectly, showing off each dip and curve, and Hermione had to struggle not to stare for too long. She thought, briefly, about what it would be like to touch her, hold her, _kiss_ her…  
  
Pansy broke the silence. “So, what was that thing?”  
  
“What thing?” Hermione quite wanted this whole situation to be over already.  
  
“The thing you were using,” Pansy pressed. “The thing you had on your cunt.”  
  
The crassness of the word Pansy chose to use made Hermione wince, but she tried to recover her wits quickly. “It’s a Muggle device,” she said. “You wouldn’t be interested.”  
  
“On the contrary, I am,” Pansy replied. “Don’t be such a know-it-all, Granger. Even you can’t know everything about someone you barely speak to.”  
  
Her chastising, though spoken in a good-natured tone like all of Pansy’ taunts this year, made Hermione feel strangely guilty. “Fine,” she said. “It’s a vibrator. It… vibrates. You put it on… on your…” Hermione trailed off. “Down there,” she finished.  
  
Pansy rolled her eyes. “It’s a natural part of your body, Granger. No need to be all shy about it. We both know you’re not a prude, with how eagerly you were canting your hips on -”  
  
“I get it!” Hermione hissed. “I know it’s natural. It’s just… a bit weird, isn’t it? We barely know each other, and yet we’re here discussing my… private parts.”  
  
Pansy grinned. “Cunt. Pussy. Vagina. Twat. Lady garden. Beaver. Muff. Clunge. Minge. Kitty. Beef cur-”  
  
“Alright, alright!” Hermione snapped. Some of those euphemisms genuinely made her feel sick to think about. “Are you done harassing me yet?”  
  
Pansy smirked. “Not quite. How does it work?”  
  
“Electricity.”  
  
“Bless you.”  
  
“It’s a Muggle thing.”  
  
“For a Muggle thing, you seemed to be enjoying it a lot.”  
  
“Just because something’s Muggle, doesn’t mean it doesn’t work well,” Hermione said, now beginning to feel annoyed. “I’m Muggleborn, aren’t I?”  
  
Pansy nodded. “Yes, and given how brilliant you are, I’m willing to give this vibrator object the benefit of the doubt. And perhaps my prior perception of Muggle objects was incorrect.”  
  
Hermione could hardly believe her ears. “Was that a _compliment_? And an _apology_? All in the same sentence?”  
  
“No need to act so stunned, Granger,” Pansy smirked. “So, this electricity, what does it do?”  
  
“It comes from batteries,” Hermione replied. “There are chemicals in it - electrons and ions - that react to create the electricity, and it give the vibrator its power. It’s really common with Muggle women, for… pleasure.”  
  
Pansy shook her head. “I don’t know what half of those things are. Aside from the pleasure, that is.” She walked over and sat herself down on a corner of Hermione’s bed, her hips slinking ever so subtly from side to side as she moved.  
  
It was impossible for Hermione not to get distracted by that, and she could suddenly feel warmth pooling in her belly. Hoping her face was going red, she started taking deep, slow breaths, hoping the Slytherin wouldn’t notice.  
  
“Can I watch?” Pansy asked.  
  
Hermione nearly choked on her inhalation. “What?”  
  
“Can I watch?” Pansy repeated. This time, there was no quick quip, no clever comeback, no sass-filled remark about Hermione’s inability to process this seemingly simple thought.  
  
“Why?” Hermione was aware that her voice was shaking, but she couldn’t think why.  
  
“Feminine curiosity,” Pansy replied shortly. “If this Muggle tool truly works as well as you say and can run on this… electricity… then I’m interested to see how it functions.”  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but her brain had temporarily disconnected itself from her tongue, and nothing came out.  
  
“What’s the matter, Granger? Lost that smart mouth of yours?”  
  
The jibe made Hermione recollect her senses. “I don’t think you understand. That sort of thing, it’s intimate, it’s not like a friendly thing Muggles do with each other.”  
  
Pansy huffed. “We could do dinner first, if you want.”  
  
It felt like all the breath had been knocked out of Hermione’s lungs. “What?”  
  
“Dinner. You and me. Before we get onto the intimate stuff,” Pansy said. “You’ve really gotten a little slow since since the War.”  
  
Hermione didn’t even register the teasing insult. “You mean… like a date?”  
  
Pansy rolled her eyes. “What else would it be? Don’t go proving my point now, Granger, that’s hardly any fun.”  
  
Hermione was still trying to understand what was going on. “But I thought… with Malfoy…”  
  
Pansy looked surprised at her response, then she laughed her screeching giggle that Hermione had slowly found less repulsive and more adorable over the years. “No, of course not! Do you think I’d ever get with a pompous arse like that?” She was still chuckling. “Besides, he’s bent. We both are. We pretend to be together to appease our parents. Pureblood heteronormative tradition and all that, it’s not very tolerant.”  
  
Of all the tense, life-or-death situations Hermione had been in, she’d never felt as relieved as she did right at that moment. “You’re… queer.”  
  
“That’s right, Granger. Queer as they come,” Pansy said. “Now, are we doing that date or not?”  
  
Hermione, suddenly overcome with a Gryffindor-like courage that she often wasn’t completely certain she had, reached forward and grabbed Pansy by the strap of her beautiful red dress robes in one hand, grasping the vibrator in the other. “Sure,” she said. “But why don’t I show you a few tricks with this first?”  
  
Hermione didn’t miss the look of shock on Pansy’s face before it was replaced by a much more sensual, lustful expression. “Fuck, Granger,” she whispered. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”  
  
And so Hermione, in a very hands-on manner, taught her everything she knew.


End file.
